


will our tears ever pay for our sin

by dancingassassin



Category: Gundam 00
Genre: Cyberpunk AU, Depression, Drinking, Lyle Dylandy bottles up his feelings, Lyle Dylandy falls into a bottle, Lyle trying to handle grief, Regene being comforting, if you look hard there's Regene/Lyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingassassin/pseuds/dancingassassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>originally written on my RP tumblr (notxyourxreplacement.tumblr.com)</p>
<p>He had thought the mission Neil was on would go as planned no matter what. That's how things were. Tieria was watching his back. But when Lyle had returned, his entire life had been turned upside down once again.</p>
<p>cyberpunk AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	will our tears ever pay for our sin

It had been three weeks since Neil had been killed on mission. Three weeks since Lyle had gotten a panicked message from Regene requesting he withdraw from the mission he was on  _immediately_. Reasons hadn’t been given. Just that it needed to happen.

He’d arrived at Regene and Tieria’s apartment to find Tieria staring in horror at his rig and Regene trying to get his twin to respond to  _anything_. 

Lyle had asked what happened. He’d been greeted with silence and utterly terrified looks. He’d repeated the question, a terrible feeling rising in his gut. One he hadn’t felt in ages, one he hadn’t felt since his family was killed.

Regene had been the one to deliver the news, Tieria hadn’t been able to  _speak_. 

Neil was dead. The mission had been a trap. Tieria had tried to stop what was going on, had tried to intervene with all his might, but had been blocked by another source. The hacker had watched Neil get  _executed_  and had been powerless to stop what happened.

Lyle had tried to stay, he’d tried to hold it together, but he’d run away. He’d abandoned their princesses when they needed him most because he couldn’t  _deal_  with what had just happened. Because his mind couldn’t wrap around the idea that  _he was the only one left_. That his twin brother was dead.

That he was alone.

He’d been running on autopilot since then. Run the restaurant, take jobs, eat, drink too much, pass out, repeat. He’d been checking in on Tieria and Regene as well, just to make sure they were surviving. Regene was clearly worried…drawn thin. Tieria didn’t come out of his bedroom when Lyle was over.

Lyle didn’t blame him.

He was slumped on the sofa in a pair of ratty pajamas staring at one of the bullet holes in the ceiling. He couldn’t remember if he or Neil had put it there, he supposed it didn’t actually matter which of them had done it…

He turned to his side, groping along the side of the couch for his bottle of whiskey. Lyle lifted it, eyes narrowing when it felt light - one look at it confirming that he was out of alcohol. He sat up, growling under his breath.

“Of feckin’ course I’m out of booze…” He stumbled off to the kitchen to find more. Any would do, really, he’d settle for alcohol he  _hated_  at this point. The back of Lyle’s mind acknowledged that this was an incredibly  _stupid_  way to handle what he was going through, but he didn’t care.

He didn’t want to feel.

Because when he was sober Lyle felt the loss of his brother all too much. The apartment was quiet, the restaurant was subdued, Regene was a mess, Tieria wouldn’t even come out and see him…

But instead of a few bottles of booze, Lyle was greeted with an empty cupboard. Confusion washed over him as he stared at the back of the cabinet, the slightly stained woodgrain. He couldn’t possibly be out, he’d gotten several bottles. Even with the bender he’d been on, there should still be one or two left…

Lyle shambled back out to the living room, quickly counting the bottles and frowning. There should still be one left, he knew he’d gotten eight of them. A memory flitted through his mind, a conversation. Neil asking for one of them for this reason or that, Lyle had agreed without hesitation. Sometimes a nightcap was just needed.

But that meant…

His eyes drifted to the door of Neil’s bedroom – the room had been closed since Neil had left on mission. He knew he’d have to go in there sooner or later, but he’d been banking on later. Much later. _He didn’t want to go through that again_.

Lyle gritted his teeth, taking several quick strides toward the room, hand reaching out for the doorknob. But his hand hovered there for a few moments, his fingers shaking while he stared at the door, before his arm fell back to his side. He growled again, hand thrusting out for the door.

But once again, he couldn’t even bring himself to touch the doorknob.

He closed his eyes tight, fist lashing out at the doorframe, a jolt of pain blitzing along the bottom of his hand. Lyle rested his head against the balled up fist, jaw clenching tighter yet to try and hold back tears. He sank down to his knees, burying his face behind his hands. _This wasn’t how it was supposed to go_.

“You weren’t supposed to feckin’ leave me, you…you…” The insult died on his lips as he inhaled sharply. Lyle clamped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking from the effort it took to not break down into tears. “…y…you…how…why did you…”

He slammed his uninjured hand down against his leg, a pathetic attempt to make something else hurt more than his heart. “…you…feckin’…why did you leave me alone…” Again, any insults vanished before he could say them. His voice broke as he let his other hand fall away from his face, clear, ocean blue eyes glaring at the door. “We were supposed to take care of them…we…we…”

He breathed in, his hand pressed against the door. His fingers curled in, like he was going to punch – or knock on the door. But his hand just rested there.

“What am I supposed to do…” Lyle’s voice was little more than a strangled whisper. “…what…what am I supposed…”

“…Lyle…?” The voice was unmistakably Regene’s – though it was far more worn and thin than it should be.

This was not the way he wanted to be found – on his knees and sobbing at his dead brother’s door, asking an inanimate object what he should do. How he was supposed to go on. Still, he managed to glance over at Regene, trying to keep his face neutral, but it was wet with tears. His hair was greasy from how long he’d gone without showering, dark circles framed blue eyes, and his hand was already swelling.

Lyle opened his mouth to speak, but words didn’t come out. Just a sad, soft whimper before he hid behind his hands again.

“Oh Lyle…”

He didn’t look up, but he could hear the rapid footsteps. He wanted to hide further, but Regene had already seen him, so what was the point?

Warm arms wrapped around him, pulling him in tight. Lyle let himself be coaxed forward, almost melting into the contact. No questions, no judgements, just…comfort.

He was silent for a good while, face buried against Regene’s shoulder. When he did speak, his voice was tremulous, thin as a string. “…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…”

“I know…”

Lyle exhaled slowly, still unable to look Regene in the eye, before he finally uttered the words he’d been refusing to say. “…I miss him.”


End file.
